


parrot crossing

by queerlytired



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, M/M, Reincarnation, so theres only minimal discussion of deaths and stuff and not in a bad way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerlytired/pseuds/queerlytired
Summary: It is unknown when soulmates first meet.In Ankara, a village in Turkey, some time in the 1970s, a little boy’s first word is“Mama!”,the second“Baba!”,and the third, uttered quietly like an afterthought;“Levi.”-Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone, which is why this story is marked as complete.





	1. ١

**Author's Note:**

> never thought i'd write a reincarnation fic. here we are.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set around the early 1980's. No warnings apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! Feel free to leave requests.

It is unknown when soulmates first meet. The old say it is before they are born, so that their souls may memorize each other before entering into the world, making the search for one another easier.

The young fantasize and hope about love at first sight, locals enticing tourists, being swept off your feet by a best friend, strangers falling in love at the market, rivals becoming infatuated, and on, and on, and on.

In Ankara, a village in Turkey, some time in the 1970s, a little boy’s first word is _“Mama!”_ , the second _“Baba!”_ , and the third, uttered quietly like an afterthought; _“Levi.”_

His mother writes it down, huffing at the father’s amusement, insisting there may be a need for it in the future.

There is not.

At the age of fifteen, Eren delivers his mother’s baked goods to customers, which is how he meets the blacksmith’s new helper.

The smell of bread announces Eren’s anticipated arrival to the smithers, and a young man glances up from his work to Eren. Silver eyes lock onto Eren’s mismatched golden and green eyes, and the raven-head accidentally brings the hammer down onto his hand instead of the uneven plate of steel.

He yelps, as does Mr. Smith the blacksmith, besides the fact that his is more of a _squawk_. Eren scurries to the built-in cabinets in the corner for the medical kit, while Mr. Smith throws the hammer still in the short one’s hand somewhere over his shoulder, narrowly missing Eren and causing a dent in the wall.

“This is Levi,” Mike Smith the blacksmith proclaims, holding said boy up by the back of his shirt like a drowned cat, “I put him in your hands, Eren.”

The raven-head - _Levi_ \- has long, black hair tied at the nape of his neck, delicate hands, a sharp nose, and almost pointy ears that Eren finds terribly endearing, compared to his own round ones. Clad in a suspiciously clean off-white shirt open at the neck, and a dirty apron, Levi sits as is he were a statue as Eren wraps up his hand and introduces himself, launching headfirst into a ramble to ignore his heart’s rapid beating.

“I’m Eren! From the bakery - it’s my mother’s, and my father works as the village doctor. He’s in a village nearby at the moment, but he’ll be back this week. You should definitely come see him then, he’ll give you something for your hand!” He hold Levi’s hand carefully in his own, eyeing the bandages critically for any mistakes. He frowns.

“Or, actually, I’ll go back and get you a balm, it should at least numb the pain, could you wait while-”`

Levi’s bandaged hand turns and captures one of Eren’s bigger, slightly calloused ones. Eren fumbles, letting the roll of bandage tape fall to the ground. He cautiously looks up into gunmetal eyes.

Levi opens his mouth and hesitates, bringing Eren’s hand up to his lips instead, softly pressing his mouth to the knuckles, never breaking eye contact. He presses his lips together and tries again.

“I’m Levi,” he states in a quiet, but strong voice, “I think I may be yours.”

Eren’s eyes are big, warmth in his chest and cheeks.

“I think I’m yours, too,” he parrots back, full of hope and excitement.

That is the life in which they meet first, full of promises that are fulfilled. They grow side by side, never wavering. A good life, one full of peace and kindness, safe of wars and predators.

They are fifteen and nineteen when they meet, and eighty-three and eighty-seven when they die, one after the other, with faithful goodbyes, knowing they would meet again.

Just not in the way they thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is appreciated!


	2. ٢

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in around 2008. Warning for non-graphic violence.

Eren has never believed in Rebirth. He’d grown up with a religious neighbourhood, the first time around, all of who had firmly believed in a Heaven and Hell.

The concept of Rebirth ruined whatever flimsy image Eren had of the afterworld. A person’s every life would be different depending on the circumstances, and the person would be judged by the outcomes of every life, held _accountable_ for every life - although they would be a different person every time, no matter how much of their previousness stayed with them. Having a single life and being accounted for every deed in that one alone would, _should,_  be more than enough.

But here he was. Reborn.

Eren doesn’t know how he knows he’s Reborn, just that he is. There isn’t much he remembers either. Or - not yet at least.

His father is still Grisha Jaeger in his second life, still a doctor. Eren knows this due to the reddish mark on the left side of his father’s neck, where Eren himself had injected poison. The poison his father had been trying to experiment with on an unwilling, comatose patient, in front of his lover.

His mother is not Carla. He is disappointed, but at the least, his father does not seem to remember their past - not Eren, not Carla, and not his cruelty. Grisha is softer, happier, around the woman that has birthed him this time, whom Eren does not know from his past, but appears to make his father a better man. She is not his mother, except that she is, and while he misses Carla, he loves Sophia all the same.

Rebirth isn’t what he sometimes wishes it would be. He does not suddenly regain the memories of his past life on a random day, nor does he receive a flood of recollections in his dreams. No, it is a much smoother transition of bits and pieces unlocking in his mind instead; he will peel an orange and he will just _know_ that someone hated them in his first life. Call it déjà vu, if you will.

It was that _Someone_ , the call of a person unknown to him, yet still known, not in his life, yet still so close.

“ _Eren._ Stop zoning out.”

“I can’t do this,” Eren mumbles to himself.

His manager - well, Hannes’ fill-in, because the old mooch is always off betting and drinking like he’s part of the crowd - tuts and smacks his bruised shoulder with a glove. “That’s for me to decide and you to _do._ ”

Hanji. His coach slash manager. Because he has severe anger management issues stemming from his father, bullying, his past life, the longing pull that keeps him awake at night, and fuck knows what else. Fighting is good for him.

“Eren,” Hanji shouts over the deafening crowd, eyes seeking his out, “how many more times can you go?”

He scrunches up his nose and lifts a shoulder in a shrug, barely feeling the heel-shaped bruise from his second fight. “Five?” He’s only just finished his fourth - on a bad day he can go all the way to ten, and he’s had an itch under his skin since he woke up _yesterday._

Sure, maybe the way he goes about it isn’t exactly legal, but if he’s good at what he does, why shouldn’t he get paid for it by rich folks who get off on watching people bleed? All he has to do is take and give hurt, while Hanji deals with everything else.

The base in which the fights are held is placed underground - beneath some rich folks’ mansion’s basement, unbeknownst to the wealthy son’s old parents and young kids. Eren remembers hearing about Mr. Smith’s husband finding out about his multiple underground businesses - all access inside had shut down and no one had been allowed within 10 kilometers of the entire few dozen acres of land owned.

Hanji has to yell to the referee over the roar of the screaming mob, informing him a lower number; always gains them more money when the crowd sees him up there again unexpectedly.

They sit next to him, passing Eren a fresh roll of gauze.

“Gear up. You’re on in ten.” The wild look in their eyes never fails to get a response out of him, and Eren feels a corner of his mouth tick up in response. He nods and finishes wrapping up his hands, getting to his feet.

The loudspeaker booms.

**_“The Riot vs. Jaeger, arena ten! On in five!”_ **

Eren resists the urge to facepalm. Another tough wannabe novice. He sends Hanji an exasperated stare, who shrugs helplessly and flaps their hand.

No playing around then. Good.

He slides through the ropes of the ring, snorting at the scrawny youth, promptly receiving a highly offended look. The boy is _perhaps_ legal, although the slimy look of his manager says otherwise.

The bell rings.

Eren has the kid flat on his stomach, arm twisted behind his back in… 3.12 seconds, according to a Hanji’s stopwatch. He hears them cackle through the loud fuzz in his brain.

“Send whatever money the match got to the kid,” Eren mumbles off-stage, “and _please_ find me someone to fight.”

Hanji, still snickering, nods and hands him a bottle. “Lemme go find a bruiser, eh?”

Eren disinterestedly watches _Lion_ \- Leonhart, one of Hoover’s charges - fight against someone who is attempting to take her name, if the screen above them flashing **‘** **_Lion vs. The Lion’_ ** is any indication.

If he remembers Hanji’s story correctly, the name _Lion_ had been Lionheart’s father’s, who’d died in a freak fight. His opponent, a nut case known as _Inject_ or something similarly ridiculous, had imbedded poison-filled needles in her fingers, to use when losing a match. That had been her last wrestle, but Leonhart had died exposing her.

His daughter grew into a strong fighter, ready to take back his name from the half-wit who’d deemed himself worthy of it. It’s been in Annie’s possession ever since, no opponent having been able to force it from her.

Then there’s clots like Eren, who fight because they have no control over their emotions.

 _Better than causing a ruckus on the street,_ Eren thinks wryly.

He goes into his sixth match with Hanji at his heel, against _Hellhound_ , who he’s fought before, and unfortunately knows all the moves to fight back to. But _Hellhound_ refuses to change his name and his _‘classic_ ’ moves, insisting that their originality is what always helps him win. Eren knows better.

Halfway through the match, landing a solid on _Hellhound’s_ face, Eren notices the lack of a familiar voice, and sees his manager up in the higher stands, yelling furiously into their phone-

His face whips to the side, pain following immediately in his cheek.

“Oi, fuckhead, think you can afford to get _distracted?_ ”

Eren spits out blood and trains wild eyes on Jean.

“Horseshit,” he snarls, “you’re _fucking dead._ ”

* * *

 

He wins, obviously, not that there had been any doubt of that. Jean winces beside him, pinching his nose shut to stop it from bleeding.

“My face, man,” Jean mutters, “a new fucking low for you.”

“Not really.” Feeling a twinge of guilt, Eren awkwardly averts his gaze to the ground. “Sorry,” he adds, mostly sincere.

Jean gives his bruised body a once-over, then offers Eren a skeptical look.

“I’m _sorry,_ ” Eren insists, less sincere than before. Jean sighs and takes it. They watch Hanji try to make their way back to them, only to have to wrestle their way out of a bear hug from another fighter - Mike? Micah? - before hopping their way towards them.

“Eren,” they gasp, hands on their knees, “holy _shit,_  I should start working out. That crowd is a giant mass wrestler itself. Anyway. Eren. We have a problem. I mean, not really, it depends on how you look at it-”

Squishing themselves between the two fighters, Hanji clears their throat.

“So. One of the other fighters I’m in charge of, he wants to fight you. Well, not _you-_ you, but someone good, and you’re one of the best out there. Except, y’know, that’s usually against the rules, cuz a manager can’t have two of their pets fight against each other. But whatever.” They force their face uncomfortably close to Eren’s, who moves back on reflex. “So, what say you?”

Eren’s brows furrow. “Is he good?”

A grin slices through their face. “ _Very_.”

“Sure, then.”

Hanji slaps his back - directly on a bruise - heartily. “Attaboy. Get ready, you’re on again in fifteen.”

* * *

 

He wins his eighth fight as well. Nanaba nods at him as she passes by his bench, irritated at her loss but not the type to do something about it outside of the ring. There’s an almost pleasant hum under his skin now.

“Eren! Come on, arena seven!” Hanji’s voice sounds hoarse from yelling. “Come _on!"_  They bounce on their toes and lightly punch his back randomly, thankfully avoiding his bruises.

“I’m gonna go check on my other baby,” they yell into his ear. Eren winces and nods.

The speakers from the other side of the basement blast again.

**_“Jaeger vs. Corporal, arena three! On in five!”_ **

Eren blinks.

 _Oh._ _No wonder they didn’t tell me. The Corporal_ himself _._

Arenas number one to five are the largest arenas in the entire sub-basement, the first being the slightest bit bigger to accommodate crowds for hotshot fighters. Eren’s only been in the first five arenas a handful of times, never against someone he actually feared losing to, never against someone in the _number one arena_ , and definitely hasn’t ever fought someone in the top five without a week’s heads up.

Today was supposed to be a normal day of fighting. Not a day he might possibly lose an arm.

He’d only ever heard of _Corporal_ , and no more, but hadn’t ever thought he might fight against him - Hanji hadn’t been joking. A manager never brought two of their own into the same ring; the conflict and risks were too high.

But Eren has managed to wriggle his way to the top ten, without trying. _Corporal’s_ in the top five. How big of a difference could there be? It’s not as though Hanji would have let him do this unless they believed in him. Right?

Eren swallows.

“You’re not chickening out, are you?” Jean side-eyes him with disdain.

And like a snap of his fingers, all of Eren’s unease is replaced with his previous rage.

“Piss off. You’re looking a bit green.”

“ _Hah!_ ” Jean guffaws, far too loud to be casual.

Eren rolls his eyes, ducking under the ropes of the platform. _Corporal_ was already there, his back to Eren, tightening bandage tape around his hands. Judging from his back alone, he wasn’t the usual ultra-buff-guy Eren was imagining him to be. He was a little more than lithe, and appeared to be plenty supple. His movements weren’t hurried - definitely graceful.

A flag is thrust between them.

“I got permission to be the referee,” Hanji exclaims, sure enough, donned in an ugly black and white striped shirt and a whistle, “play nice kids! I can’t afford to lose either of my precious beans-”

 _Corporal_ turns around and their voice is drowned out by the increase in cheers from the crowd.

 _Gun-metal,_  is the first thing that runs through Eren’s mind; _his eyes are made of steel._

The second is, _I know him._

Gun-metal glowers at Eren.

The third is, _he’s beautiful._

 _Corporal_ makes the first hit. The rest of the match is a blur, Eren at a loss.

He gives and and takes hits. He blocks and gets blocked. He trips when he sees a younger version of _Corporal_ in a stained apron and slacks, in place of the current sweaty, shirtless _Corporal._

Eren’s flung onto the ground, stomach-first, a heavy _(comfortable, familiar)_ weight on his back and a thick forearm wound around his neck.

“ _Yield_ ,” hisses _(whispers, demands) Corporal_.

“Fuck you,” Eren manages to spit out, and hooks a leg around the _Corporal’s (tussling in bed),_  flipping them over, chests flush together _(cuddles, embraces),_  and furiously punches _Corporal_ in the face.

Five minutes more and it’s over - Eren doesn’t know who won, if _he_ lost or won, though he’s fairly sure he won, because _Corporal_ let him win, he thinks. He feels drained, yesterday’s anger a mere memory. He slumps down his sofa, not remembering how he got to his star-room, abruptly wanting nothing more than to sleep.

There’s a knock on his door.

“S’open,” Eren slurs out.

In steps someone who is decidedly _not_ Hanji. Eren shoots up.

 _Corporal_ closes the door behind him and leans against it. He’s already showered.

He looks good.

“I’m Levi,” _Corporal_ offers after a few seconds, quiet.

“Eren,” he replies automatically. “Can I-" _(the same face, sour)_ , "do you hate oranges?”

 _Corporal_ \- Levi - blinks; then hesitantly gives a half-smile, slowly approaching him.

_(Flowers in his hair, petals on his cheeks.)_

“Yes.” Levi surrounds himself around Eren _(safe)_ and leans his forehead against Eren’s. “Do you like blueberries?”

“Yes,” Eren breathes, and tilts his head up. “You know me.”

“I do,” Levi murmurs, and kisses him, hot, unhesitatingly licking his way into Eren's mouth, and Eren  _shivers,_   _(yes, more, mine-)_

A shutter goes off. They rip away from each other, breathing heavily, and turn to the door with fire in their eyes.  

“Blackmail,” Hanji explains, and bolts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> punctuality?? never heard of her. feedback is much appreciated! requests for future realities?

**Author's Note:**

> so like... idk whether to continue this reincarnation period as a series as itself or do more different versions or both. suggestions?
> 
> @ queerlytired.tumblr.com


End file.
